My book recommendations versus your book recommendations.
Book recommendations are not all created equal. Sometimes when I tell a friend what they should read next, I feel sure they’ll like it. But when I get a recommendation? Well, sometimes it sends me in the opposite emotional direction: I’m lost, even offended. Why this book? Do I really have to read this?
To further illustrate the difference between when I gift a book and when someone gifts a book to me, here are some comparisons between my good recommendations and your bad recommendations.
My book recommendations are perfect and well thought out.
Your book recommendations are trash and invented on the spot.
My book recommendations are unique and tailored to each recipient. They are representations of how well I know you, how much I notice, and how much I care.
Your book recommendations are obvious and ordinary. I wonder if you’ve ever met me before, or are perhaps confusing me with someone else.
My book recommendations are uncommon, but not pretentious.
Your book recommendations are something we all read in middle school.
My book recommendations arrive at just the right moment in your life. You’re searching for something, but you don’t know what. All you know is something is missing, something is misaligned. I sense this subtle ennui, this shift in your sense of yourself, and offer you just the right book to buoy your spirit and give you space to reflect. My recommendation centers you.
Your book recommendations couldn’t come at a worse time. Just when I thought the stress of work, finances, and a failing relationship couldn’t get worse, here comes this book I’m obligated to read, I guess. It’s like drying off with a wet towel. Your recommendation destabilizes me.
My book recommendations are like perfect similes.
Your book recommendations are like YAPPING, HONKING ONOMATOPOEIA.
My book recommendations give you a new lease on life. You’re reminded that reading, literature, and art are what make life worth living.
Your book recommendations startle me into reconnecting with old friends. I’m reminded that I need to get out, to be with people. I wonder if I should really spend all my life reading. Life is too short to spend with books like these.
My book recommendations inspire conversations, essays, and voluminous thank you notes. New book clubs pop up in their wake.
Your book recommendations inspire emergency therapy sessions, calls to parents, and cold night sweats. Library cards are thrown across the room in anger.
My book recommendations are lighting up group chats: “I can’t believe this book!”
Your book recommendations are are lighting up group chats, but in a different, bad way: “I can’t believe this book…”
My book recommendations are tastefully gift wrapped.
Your book recommendations are tied to a brick and thrown through my bathroom window.
My book recommendations are the angel on your right, guiding and inspiring.
Your book recommendations are the devil on my left, telling me to shoplift a Snickers bar and trick my mom into thinking I got a motorcycle just to freak her out.
My book recommendations are like a cool breeze in spring.
Your book recommendations are like a blast of car exhaust.
My book recommendations make you feel excited and ready to read, a whole new world of literary possibilities opening to you. My gift is expansive.
Your book recommendations make me frustrated, confused, alarmed even. Is this really what you think of me? I’m starting to see myself in a new, unflattering light. My world has gotten smaller and darker. I have trouble sleeping.
